Page 13 of Skalterra By Nightmare
“I don’t care about your Saergrim,” I said. “I don’t care if you are real or not. I just want to read my email.”
Galahad stepped to the side, revealing the young girl from the night before. She lingered at the edge of the clearing and hid the bottom half of her face behind giant sleeves that hung past her fingertips. Shifting golden sunlight danced between the green shadows of the forest canopy, catching the golden details of the girl’s robes in a way that made me think she was more suited to this forest than she had been to the stuffy fort she’d been fleeing.
“That girl is Fana the Divine Sovereign Fireld, and she is the last living descendant of the Three Magicians,” Galahad explained. “Saergrim’s most loyal followers, the Grimguards, have hunted down the rest, while we, the Riftkeepers, have tried to defend them. The other two bloodlines have already fallen. Fana is all that’s left. If she dies, Saergrim is released. Both our worlds will crumble.”
“And the Grimguard—” I said.
“Will kill her.”
“Right.”
“You don’t seem too perturbed by the fact that the fate of existence as you know it depends on keeping a ten-year-old alive,” Galahad said.
“Because Orla was right. She doesn’t believe us.” Ferrin’s laugh undercut the direness of the situation that Galahad was trying to sell. “It’s useless. If she doesn’t believe us, what good is she?”
The girl, Fana, stared at me from where she continued to lurk. She reminded me of a sunflower with her yellow hood pulled up over her hair, framing her dark face.
“You want me to protect her?” I asked. “I can’t. I can’t justsleepall day. I have a life. I have a job. I have an email—”
“We only need you until we can get her to Ferrin’s stronghold in the mountains.” Galahad pulled at his white beard. “And Grimguards are nocturnal. We don’t need you during the day.”
I laughed. This was ridiculous. Terrifying, but ridiculous. And definitely not real.
Ferrin clicked his tongue.
“I’m with the Nightmare. It’s a bad idea.”
“She can’t die. She’s lucid enough to understand more complex commands. She can keep coming back with the previous night’s memories and aid us until we get to the Second Sentinel.”
“She’ll get in the way.”
“I’ll make sure she doesn’t.” Galahad’s tone carried a foreboding growl. “Tiernan, Orla. Go with Ferrin back to the tents. Take Fana. You should eat.”
“But—” Tiernan tightened his grip on my arm and shoulder, and I tried to shake him free.
“She won’t run.” Galahad narrowed his pale eyes at me, and I smirked. “I’m releasing her soon, which will be much less painful for her than running.”
Tiernan and Orla let me go, and I staggered to my feet, rubbing my wrists.
“Wren Warrender,” Galahad continued as the others retreated up the embankment, “I shall call upon you at the same time every night. I recommend you make yourself comfortable before I do.”
I pushed blue hair back over my shoulder.
“You aren’t real,” I asserted.
“The fate of your world rests on you. If Saergrim is released from his prison, there is no telling the chaos he will wreak. Both Keldori and Skalterra—”
“I know.”
“No,” he said darkly. He was still holding the blade I’d used to stab myself with several deaths ago. “You don’t. And if you don’t think this is real, then let me give you something a bit more material to encourage you.”
He grabbed my left hand with an agility I didn’t know old men capable of, and the blade cut across my palm in the shape of a “T”. I braced for blood, but instead, silver light glowed from the cut before resealing the skin together.
“What did you do?” I yanked my hand away. A silver “T” of puckered skin scarred my left palm.
It’s not real, I told myself. Except that it freaking felt real as hell. I hissed through my teeth, trying to will the sharp sting away.
“That’s the Curse of Tulyr,” he said simply. “Lucid Nightmares are too few and too useful to let go to waste, but you’ve made it clear you have no intention of aiding us. I can’t have you killing yourself every time I summon you, so I’ve limited the amount of times you’ll be able to die here.”
